


what a thing to have done

by thatdamnedrogue



Series: count your blessings, not your flaws [2]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: (instead of alternate universe cause its just tweeked not entirely changed), Gen, M/M, Universe Alter, this one was a little rough tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 21:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18185822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatdamnedrogue/pseuds/thatdamnedrogue
Summary: A piece set before 'moon light and starshine' kind of what led to future interactions for Roxas and Vanitas. UA.





	what a thing to have done

**Author's Note:**

> THIS CHAPTER HAS A MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING ON IT. There are heavy implications of noncon/r*pe. PLEASE proceed with caution! Thank you!

    You are not sure what drives you to seek him out. You have had two _actual_ interactions with him; the first was after he stole your journal (you’d written down the dreams you were having, strange places and people you knew but didn’t know, feelings that weren’t yours but familiar all the same)- you sought him out to get it back. You argued. And although you were unable to get your journal back (the whole ordeal ended with you flipping him the bird and leaving his room), you found you weren’t so upset about it after you’d actually cooled down. The second time was after a rather- … well, you wouldn’t call it a heated exchange, because you weren’t _trying_ to pick a fight, but that was how the sharpshooter saw it and-

                                Well. You have always been fiery. Like a star.

    You found yourself in the training hall, unable to bring yourself down from the rage that coursed through you. You broke a dummy, and then you heard his voice and twisted- he goaded you on. The first words out of his mouth were mocking, and you threatened him in kind. He provoked you, and you were too angry to actually _plan_ before lunging at him.

     And then you were on your stomach, his hand on the back of your neck and his knee on your back.

    "Poor baby bird... not even thinking straight to land a nice hit to my head. Go on and tell this cat what's the matter before I decide to devour you..." His voice is taunting, and it makes your blood boil even more. And when you respond with swears and anger and struggling to get free, his mocking falls and he asks in earnest,

    “Roxas, why are you upset?” And you think he just wants to mock you some more until he continues, wanting to know what was really bothering you. He says he wants to know before you do something stupid and hurt yourself. You’re not sure what to say to that as you still beneath his hold. Your hands tremble and you curl your fingers into tight fists- how do you even convey what made you mad? Surely, anyone else would find your behavior an overreaction, no matter how you feel justified in your ire.

    He waits, hand on your neck, knee on your back, for a response. You try, too, to find the words to explain just what set you off. Annoyance- because of all the people to try to talk to you down, you’re not sure he has any right; conflicted- because he _is_ trying to figure out what’s wrong and calm you down enough so you won’t do something stupid; ire- but not at him, and that’s the strongest of what you’re feeling-

    “Xigbar pissed me off,” you say finally, and you feel his hand lift from your neck, his knee vacate from your back- but before you feel the weight replaced with him _sitting_ on you. You squirm and complain, and manage to turn your head enough to look at him- elbow on his knees, chin in his hand- he looks positively comfortable, but it’s hard to tell with the mask covering his face. He tells you that he doesn’t like Xigbar- and his sage advice? To _avoid_ the sharpshooter, to which you reply that you had been searching for someone else. The conversation continued for a moment before he gave some _truly_ good advice-

                    Advice you would follow, advice that you would keep in mind-

    “They provoke us on purpose,” and he says it as though he’s learned this lesson too often for his own good. You listen.

                            You keep it in mind.

     And when, in the middle of some _private_ time with another, you get summoned by the very member you wanted to avoid, you remind yourself of what he said. But even following that advice, you end up in a- calling it a _rough situation_ isn’t fair. It’s worse than that- you’re pinned chest first to a wall in the Grey Area, and the sharpshooter is not gentle with you.

    This isn’t how you pictured your first time. It’s primal, a show of power, and you fight with everything you’ve got but he’s stronger, taller, broader than you. You struggle and kick and try to reason, but he doesn’t listen. And when he’s finished, he bites into you shoulder with viciously sharp teeth, he humiliates you further with ruffling your hair (and you hate him, you hate him with everything you have) before giving you your mission details and departing.

    You are lost. You spend an hour in a scalding hot shower; everything hurts. Your shoulder won’t stop bleeding and you feel too weak to use Cure on it. You aren’t thinking right anyway-

    That’s how you end up stumbling down the hall in sleep pants and a tshirt, leaning against the wall, hair smelling of mint- skin red from the heat of the water. That’s how you end up in front of his door, and you can feel the darkness seeping from behind it, and for a moment you stand there, barely keeping yourself up right.

     You have half a mind to leave- you could run, and not come back. You’re not sure where you’ll get, or how far you’ll go, and then you realize you don’t want to be alone, on top of the fact that you don’t have the strength to run- not yet, not now, not after--

     Shoulders shiver and shudder, your forehead presses against door before you manage to raise your hand to knock. It’s light, there’s some part of you that doesn’t want to be seen like this, but something urges you to stay, that it would be safest with him. Your hands twitch from the door to your scalp, fingers catching damp strands as you pull yourself up, trying to relax-

    The door opens. The door opens and you’re not sure if you want to stay or go, your legs waver in their strength. You body aches, standing doesn’t do you any favors. And he’s there, watching you with those golds and asks if you’ve come for another fight. You open your mouth and a sob falls out, so you clap your hands over it as your shoulders shudder. You can feel that bite _bleed_ , and you wish you could run. There’s a moment where neither of you move, the Unversed in his room writhe and give off strange noises, and you don’t know what to think of it, all you can manage is an attempt at controlling your tears and repressing sobs and--

     Your voice sounds foreign to your own ears, “can I--” your brain stutters and stalls on the words, and your hands hang at your sides, fingers catching the hem of your shirt and fidgeted, picking at the thread. Teeth catch lower lip and you chew and chew and then try again. “I just--” The tears are rolling down your cheeks again, and you keep your head bowed. Part of you is afraid to see what look he’s giving you. “Can I just--” There’s no prompting from him, no pressure, but you still feel panicked and trapped and you haven’t even crossed into his room.

    You manage a few, unsteady steps forward. “Can I just- sit with you awhile?” When you look up, gold is practically glowing with danger, the creatures in the room seem alarmed- your steps falter. And then he’s moving to you, starts to say another name but corrects himself and you can’t even be upset because you don’t want to be you right now anyway.   
  
    When he’s close enough, you grab ahold of his forearm, your other hand going to your bleeding shoulder. You try to form words but only manage stuttered sounds for a minute or two, tears refusing to stop. (You thought you cried all you had before, but they keep coming.) You start to tell him you remembered what he said- you didn’t let the sharpshooter provoke you, but your words stop, and you begin again with how you tried _so hard_ \-- and stop. Another time, stuttering words, you manage to say _I fucking hate him_ , each word punctuated with short, rapid inhales, and your grip on his arm is tighter and somewhere in the back of your mind you wonder if it’s too much but you can’t seem to help it. Tears keep rolling, you yell out a _Fuck!_ before catching your lower lip between your teeth and chewing it roughly, trying to come back down, and failing.

     “Please-” soft desperation, “just for a little while- I just-- I’m sorry-” it’s all your mouth manages from the jumbled tangle of thoughts racing through your head. He moves closer, he doesn’t heckle or tease or shove you away; _he moves closer_. And the motion he gives is not unlike a cat- he rubs his cheek nearly against yours- more against your hair than skin, but enough to be felt. And it comforts you, the strange, unexpected gesture. You’re aware of the eyes of Unversed watching the two of you, but there’s no malice to be felt. You let go of his arm to wipe at your face, and he doesn’t move- staying close, but not reaching out, letting you take the time you need.

     “It’s fine,” to your apology, though his voice is rough, there’s no ill towards you. “Stay.” It’s firm- as though he knows you considered otherwise. “You can stay.”

                                        And you’re not sure if you’ve ever heard three words more beautiful in your life. You stay.

**Author's Note:**

> As the summary states, this is set before 'moon light and starshine'. It's a bit heavier content wise but I wanted to get it out there. Still from the same RP server.


End file.
